The Best Form of Revenge
by hpkiwi
Summary: Harry wakes up with quite the headache after a night of celebrating his engagement to Ginny at Grimmauld Place. He's finding it difficult to forget a dream of his parents, Lupin and Sirius congratulating the pair of them. As the morning goes on, Harry yet again marvels at how fortunate he and the people he cares about are. Rated T for some misuse of firewhisky and mature themes.


**_A/N: This is sort of a weird one. It's both a lighthearted fic focusing on the morning after a rather raucous bit of partying to celebrate Harry and Ginny's engagement, but it's also a slightly deeper story with Harry focusing on a rather vivid dream involving the Marauders and Lily. It came to fruition as a result of reading a fic called She's the One by Pottermum - which is an AU story of what would happen if Harry's parents and their loved ones were still alive and Harry introduced Ginny to them, and it planted this in my head!_**

 ** _A portion of this story ("you're the strongest person I know') was inspired by a screenshot of a headcanon by Tumblr user 'cascrieff' that popped up somewhere else on the internet, so if that person ever sees this, I thank you!_**

 ** _Enjoy the tale! Yes, it involves Harry somewhat hungover and he's clearly sharing his bed (with his fiancée, nothing scandalous!), but despite the T ranking, it's pretty tame. I don't have the intention of ever writing The Hangover: Gryffindor Edition, or Fifty Shades of Potter/Ginger/Granger, rest assured._**

 ** _Of course, all credit must go to J.K.R, who created a universe so rich this 22 year old is still immersed in it after 15 years._**

 _"I was thinking of him... and Mum. Seeing their faces. They were talking to me, just talking….I don't even know if it's real….."_

 ** _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban film_**

" _Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" - **Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  
**_

 _January 12, 2002_ _._

Harry woke with a start, then winced as he felt sharp, shooting pains through his head.

He could only remember flashes of what had transpired in the hours before he ended up in his bed at Number Twelve, Grimmuald Place. Molly, Arthur and Andromeda had taken Teddy home as the rest began to settle in for a more raucous night, Kreacher had joined in the festivities heartily with a brightly-coloured toga, and there had been lots of Ogden's Firewhisky toasts to himself and Ginny. There had been loud music playing, including the Weird Sisters' latest hit: 'You Sucked Me In (Like a Lethifold),' and Bill and Fleur had finally left around midnight to attend to Victoire. Finally, then there was Ginny, tottering herself slightly, and determinedly pulling him up the stairs with a seductive twinkle in her eye…

He shook his head, and rolled over. Sure enough, there was his fiancée, her curtain of red hair covering the pillow next to his. Asleep, she still bore a smile on her face put there by the evening and night's proceedings, if he wasn't imagining things. Harry sighed and fell back onto his pillow.

What he, Ginny and the others at their engagement party had done weren't top of his mind. Rather, he was still thinking about the dream he'd just had…..

Ginny had felt his movement. With a sigh and a shiver herself, she blinked lazily, squinting severely even in the vague gloom of Harry's bedroom, and gently tapped Harry's left shoulder.

Harry jumped slightly at the contact. "Hmmmm?" he mumbled very inarticulately.

"Hey," her voice was low and soft. "What time is… you okay?" she hastily added, for Harry felt another throbbing wave of pain hit his head and reflexively put his hand to his temple. "Your scar? Is it-"

Harry rolled over to face her. "I'm fine," he reassured her with what he knew would be undoubtedly a shy, sheepish smile. Every time Harry had unexpectedly awoken from a dream, or reacted to a hangover, Ginny would be on edge, anxious to conclude to her satisfaction that nothing untoward was happening. Not that Harry had suffered many lately, and neither had Ginny, he knew. Several times in the first two years after the final battle, Ginny would suddenly fling an arm out, often whacking Harry on the head mid-nightmare as she re-encountered Tom Riddle in the Chamber, or else imagined a close friend, family member or even he, Harry perishing in the rubble at Hogwarts. Moving in together had apparently all but permanently banished those nightmares from her mind. And occasionally seeing stars was a small price to pay for being able to comfort and reassure the other almost immediately.

Ginny was still looking at him suspiciously, her hair messily tousled. "I'm fine," he repeated. "Too many firewhiskies, that's for sure." He rolled back onto his side, peering at the first rays of sunlight creeping through the tattered curtains as Ginny propped herself up on her elbows and placed her chin on his left shoulder. Even now, that gesture still typically made Harry hitch his breath. It had, after all not been too many years ago that he had been grateful that Ron was not a Legilimens while he'd been having rather….. _lurid_ dreams involving the very same girl. Considering Ron's history when she'd merely been dating Michael Corner and Dean Thomas, he'd been decidedly restrained.

Harry felt rather than heard the chuckle come from Ginny, now pressed against his side. "Hangover?" she whispered. Harry nodded thickly, wiping his face of the slight beads of sweat that had accumulated.

"Tut, tut," she whispered, planting a slight kiss on his cheek. "The Chosen One, the man who conquered The Dark Lord, with hair dark as a blackboard and eyes as green as a fresh-pickled toad, and his biggest enemy is a bottle or two? Harden up, Potter."

Harry laughed at the reference to her childhood singing valentine, rolling over and placing an arm around her exposed back as she rested in the crook of his other arm, close enough that Harry could start counting the myriad freckles on her face. It was true, he had to admit - Ginny was much better with the strong stuff than he was. "Sounds like a Rita Skeeter headline for _Witch Weekly_ ," he muttered weakly.

"Hmmph," Ginny muttered. "Good thing she isn't snooping around our personal lives at the moment. Although…" she paused dramatically. "Harry, can you shut the window? I can hear an insect buzzing." Harry, briefly startled by this, relaxed again, but not before throwing a spare pillow at Ginny, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Manners, Potter," she chided playfully, rolling onto her other side and closing her eyes again as she exhaled sleepily. "So what was bothering you, then?" she mumbled.

Harry lay mute, staring at the ceiling and remembering that wonderful dream he'd had. Announcing his and Ginny's engagement to his parents. Remus and Sirius had been there, too.

"I had a dream. You were there too, and I was seeing Mum and Dad. We were all talking. Just talking. And Lupin was there, and so was Sirius."

Ginny's brown eyes fluttered open, and behind them Harry saw pity, sympathy, and surprise. "You - you were introducing me to them?" she asked, slightly incredulously. Harry nodded.

"No. Well, sort of. We were celebrating our engagement. We'd come along to their house - they'd bought a big house in the country somewhere. I know it sounds mad, that it can't be real. But…. It just did," he added lamely as Ginny frowned slightly.

"Harry," she said tentatively. "It's so very understandable if you're thinking about – that. But they've gone to a place where we can't hear or see them. We've all been there now."

If anyone other than Ginny had said that, Harry knew his temper would have sparked. But that was one of the wonderful things about being with Ginny - the ability to cut through to the chase without wounding.

"I'm not thinking about the Resurrection Stone," he reassured her. "Of course I miss them, but why on earth would I come to them? I…I have a family here, right now."

"Indeed you do," Ginny whispered, pulling him into a close embrace and planting her lips on his.

…

Some time later, the Sun had risen properly, but both Harry and his hangover headache were refusing to budge. So, apparently, was his fiancée. He'd chuckled as another portion of the dream came back - Sirius chiding James for producing a son with the same weakness for redheads. So he'd told Ginny that. The result had been, predictably, Ginny teasing him and he, Harry, blushing fiercely over it.

"I'd have loved to have met them," Ginny sighed contentedly – Harry had by now finished recalling the rest of his tale. "James and Lily, I mean."

"Yeah," said Harry, yawning and nearly swallowing a clump of Ginny's hair, which was now looking more tangled than before - though that was hardly surprising…

"Oh, sorry," Ginny said brightly, raising her head slightly and scooping it to the far side of her head as Harry reached for his glasses.

"You need a hair comb, Gin, you really do."

"Says you, you great goofy prat. Your fault, you were willing, hypocrite."

"Was not my fault," Harry protested indignantly. "You made the first move, Ginny, you always do." That was another thing he'd long come to love about her. No hand-wringing and no indecisive bouts. If she decided it something was a good idea, not even a Hungarian Horntail would stop her. Just like her joining the Harpies right after finishing school. She'd certainly had a history of taking matters into her own hands on the romantic front. The after-match party in Sixth Year, after they'd won the Cup. His seventeenth birthday. His eighteenth. Now….this. Pulling him up here from right in front of a gaggle of drunken, catcalling guests, no less.

"Maybe, in its own funny way, it was real," he added, changing topic to one that was less likely to mortify him. "The dream."

"Sorry?"

"That was something Dumbledore told me. After….after I was hit with _Avada Kedavra_." Beside him, he felt the sheets quiver slightly.

"Maybe he's right," came Ginny's voice - she'd now buried herself into her pillow once more and thus also was presumably feeling the effects like Harry, though more subtly. "But please don't – don't remind me of that horrible time, Harry. Not right after we've celebrated our engagement." Harry shivered as he remembered the broken, despairing and grief-stricken yells from Ginny, as well as Ron, Hermione, McGonagall and a few others. He knew he could never fully grasp the magnitude of the shock, grief and horror that false reports of his demise had triggered within Ginny and the others. "Sorry," he whispered sheepishly to Ginny, lightly kissing her forehead. "I'm finished." He yawned again. "Time…time for more sleep."

"Good idea," agreed Ginny, rolling over, but taking Harry's hand all the same and squeezing it.

Harry lay prone, thinking of how joyful his parents, Sirius and Remus would have been with the news. As well as Fred, he reasoned. As he thought of the possibilities that lay ahead for him - no more following pre-determined paths, no more Voldemort, no more terror, Harry felt himself pulled under once more.

In what was obviously no time at all, he woke again, courtesy of the morning chorus of birds from the neighbouring rooftops. Thankfully, the painful throbbing in his head had subsided substantially. It was funny, he reflected, how on this occasion he'd dreamt of his parents, Sirius and Remus, and yet no suffocating grief came with it. Instead, it was oddly _comforting_. It was as if his subconscious imagination was reassuring him he'd absolutely made the right decision with Ginny, not that it was needed. Sitting up straight and pulling on a battered dressing gown knitted by Molly three Christmases previously, he sat back down on his side of the bed and let his thoughts roam, Ginny still lost in her own world.

As if she could read his mind, she rolled over, mumbling slightly. That was one of the advantages to dating Ginny - she was even less of a morning person than Ron was, and that was saying something. He chuckled as he looked at his watch and realised that Hermione must have dragged Ron out the door to the Ministry already – checking her level of paperwork and picking up a _Prophet_ plus a few snacks. No doubt Ron would be moaning about how bloody mental Hermione was being as per usual. Of course, that was just Ron's uniquely endearing method of saying 'I love you,' at least in public. Harry mentally blocked how infuriatingly maudlin Ron would undoubtedly be in private – no doubt it would be disgustingly so, and he knew full well Ron had the same approach around him and Ginny, still. Clearly, old habits died hard.

As the semi-conscious Ginny moved again, mumbling something in an incoherent, caffeine-deprived manner, Harry slipped an arm around her shoulders. He thought back to the time himself, Hermione and the Weasleys had first co-habited in the decrepit house, and of how harsh and unwelcoming it had been, how alone he'd felt. His two best friends, forced to keep their distance from him by Dumbledore. The elf heads and Mrs Black's portrait (which had finally been removed a matter of years beforehand, but not before placing Ron and Hermione in a thoroughly undignified situation, courtesy of her yells waking Harry up). The Locket that had been chucked, with all blissfully unaware as to its significance….

He shivered slightly. His relationship with the Weasleys and Dark objects, Horcruxes or not, had been an unfortunately long one. He thought back to the time they'd been cleaning out the house of Doxies and dangerous objects, and recalled the sleeping box that had enchanted everyone into an unnatural lethargy, only rectified when a wise beyond her years and white-faced Ginny slammed the box shut with a snap.

"Harry?" Ginny mumbled from beside him. She'd clearly felt his quiver at the thought of the Locket and other dangerous artefacts. "What is it?" Her eyes cracked open slightly, and Harry saw concern mingling with irritation. Taking her hand, Harry exhaled loudly.

"I…I was thinking about stuff. The Locket, the Diary…..what we've all faced. And I….I honestly think you're the strongest person I've ever known." Ginny's scowl faded into something far more pleasant.

"Damn right," she muttered in affirmation, closing her eyes completely once more and snuggling closer to him.

Harry however was now fully awake. Deciding to wait until she surfaced naturally (he didn't after all want to risk a Bat-Bogey), his stomach rumbled at the thought of some breakfast.

When she finally did, he broached the topic.

"You want some breakfast? We probably want to begin tidying the place by the time Ron and Hermione come back - they're still living here after all."

Grumbling slightly, Ginny brushed the sleep out of her eyes, and pulled on her dressing gown.

"When did Ron and Hermione leave?" she whispered as they began traipsing down to the first landing – there were, after all, a lot of people still in the house likely recovering from the previous night's proceedings.

"Dunno," Harry muttered, passing the still-snoozing Charlie, who was propped up against a wall, a sick bowl beside him. He'd clearly had it badly, Harry remembered, accidentally barging into Ron's room while attempting to find the loo. Harry knew that had happened, because of two mortified yelps and Ron yelling at Charlie to do something biologically impossible to himself.

"I didn't hear a thing."

"You really were out of it then," Ginny laughed. "You know Ron in the mornings, he thumps down the stairs like a drunken troll." Harry snorted at the mental image as she continued. "My idiot brother, he thinks he can get away with anything when Charlie's at a party. Some Auror he is."

Harry winced at the thought of what Ginny was suggesting, but she batted his arm playfully. "You and Ron, you're as bad as each other when it comes to your 'sisters.' Besides, you should be grateful – you know the number of times Hermione has dragged him away? Including in Sixth Year."

"Even before the match?" Harry grinned at the memory of him entering the Gryffindor Common Room after Snape's detention to wild celebrations of their team's upset victory. And of course, _the kiss_.

"Yep. Hermione even today boasts that she set us up – what rubbish, of course - but I like to let her live under the delusion. Aside from Ron acting on his obvious feelings, that was what she was most looking forward to. It'd be a shame if she'd had to murder him to stop him interfering."

"Too smug for her own good, that Hermione," said Harry with a wry smile as they neared the living room. "She works hard though."

"It's like I've said before," Ginny sighed. "That girl and her work – if she's not Minister within ten years, I'll be astounded. _Wow."_

Harry too, stopped and took in the scene. "When did they stop celebrating?" he asked and Ginny shrugged.

"No idea - probably didn't stop until a couple of hours ago. You know, Harry, a lot of people like and appreciate you."

"I could say the same for you," said Harry, raising an eyebrow at her. "You've got practically everything arranged for the wedding already."

"Only thanks to Hermione. I've now got Demelza, Katie, Fleur, Gabrielle, Luna and of course, Hermione as bridesmaids." She dug an elbow into his shoulder. "What about _you_ , Harry? Still no-one but Best Man Ron at the moment."

His fiancée could be thoroughly infuriating when she wanted to be. As he vainly attempted to think of a witty retort, a snore shook the room. Hagrid was leaning against a nearby couch in an undignified manner and his chair was nothing but matchsticks. Occupational hazard when inviting a half-Giant along to your engagement party, Harry reasoned. His eyes flicked to the other occupants of the room.

Dean had regrettably needed to leave early, owing to the need to care for Lavender - the full moon was drawing near, after all, though Harry had told him that Lavender was welcome at the wedding.

The fire was still emitting plenty of heat, Harry noticed - clearly the party had continued for quite sometime. Right in front of the fireplace were George, Angelina and Percy – an Exploding Snap deck beside them. Both he and Ginny stifled a laugh at the sight of the formerly stiff-necked Percy and his thoroughly lopsided horn-rimmed glasses as he lay spread-eagled on the floor.

On the nearest couch lay a substantial proportion of Harry's Quidditch teams – Katie Bell and Oliver Wood – the latter still with a manic-looking face while sleeping, if that was possible – alongside Lee Jordan and Beater Ritchie Coote, with Dennis Creevey also part of the group.

At the far end of the couch, in their own little corner lay the other Beater from his Sixth Year: Jimmy Peakes, arm wrapped tightly around the waist of current Gryffindor Quidditch Captain Demelza Robins (Harry had recalled them snogging heatedly at one stage of the previous evening).

On another couch lay Parvati and Seamus (Padma, along with Anthony Goldstein, Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones, had perhaps wisely left shortly after Molly, Arthur and Andromeda had departed) and Harry recalled Seamus delivering an unlikely tale he and apparently Parvati too considered riveting: getting into a fight in the Hog's Head with a shirtless, sparkling vampire.

Neville and Hannah also occupied the couch, apparently dozing peacefully – then again, their love of Ogden's Firewhisky had undoubtedly assisted. Beside them, also dozing peacefully and with minimal suggestion of overindulgence lay Luna and her new boyfriend, Rolf Scamander. Harry and Ginny, however, knew better. Luna as a general rule did not consume much alcohol, but had apparently decided to make an exception for her oldest and dearest friend – Ginny. Truth be told, aside from increased drowsiness, there had been little change in her character – she was just as lovably dotty as always.

As they looked on at the scene, a handful of the partygoers began to stir feebly. Neville opened his eyes, yawned, then, upon noticing Ginny and Harry standing in front of him, came lumbering over with all the coordination of a Confunded bear.

Harry felt much of the breath leave him as he and Ginny were crushed together by Neville's embrace.

"Thanks for having us," Harry heard Neville mutter. "Still ecstatic that it worked for you two – was wondering about it ever since you, Ginny, had that row over McLaggen injuring Harry."

"That obvious was I?" grumbled Ginny, echoing Harry's thoughts precisely as she gingerly checked her ribs for damage. Harry knew that Hermione had spotted the signs early, but Neville too?

"Yes you were," chuckled Neville, "but not nearly as obvious as Harry." At that, Harry felt his face heat up dramatically.

"Between you, Hermione and even Luna, you're all insufferable," shot back Ginny, rolling her eyes. "And Neville?"

"Yes?" Even though he was presumably preoccupied with a hangover, Harry knew Neville instantly recognised the serious tone in Ginny's voice.

"Thanks for everything," replied Ginny earnestly, grabbing his elbow and looking at him full on. "Really."

There was a creak from the doorway, and the three of them wheeled around to see Hermione and Ron half-smirking at the mess in the living room, half-beaming at the sight of three extremely brave, fortunate wizards who had come through every challenge and obstacle put in their way by Voldemort.

"I think we need to make some breakfast for this crew," suggested Hermione in a stage whisper to Ron as Percy began to groggily stir. "Your mother's best pancake recipe, how does that sound?"

"Don't leave out the sausages!" Ron complained as he and Hermione made their way towards the kitchen – and Harry noticed for the first time the plastic bags they were carrying. Apparently Hermione had thought it was time to educate Ron on the ins and outs of Muggle supermarkets.

"What say you?" whispered Ginny in Harry's ear as she caught the eye of Demelza, who having slipped free of Peakes' arm was now elbowing him awake painfully. "Sausages sound good?"

"Excellent," replied Harry with a grin, kissing Ginny's temple and encouraging Neville to follow along too.

Somewhere, he knew, his parents and their two best friends would be grinning away happily over the celebrations at Sirius' former house, and so too would Fred and Tonks.

After all, as a wise Muggle once said, living well was the best form of revenge.


End file.
